


This Is The One Where Crowley Cries “Moose!” When He Comes

by OldPingHai



Series: This Is The One Where... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cram (CRowley/sAM), Crowley/Sam Winchester - Freeform, Do Not Post To Any Other Site, M/M, Mooseley, Moosely - Freeform, This is posted to AO3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldPingHai/pseuds/OldPingHai
Summary: Crowley cries “Moose!” when he comes. His demonic entourage wonders what that’s about.
Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/Sam Winchester
Series: This Is The One Where... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120151
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	This Is The One Where Crowley Cries “Moose!” When He Comes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Threshie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/gifts), [Couyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Couyfish/gifts), [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts).



> I want to thank Threshie and Cuoyfish for their wonderful Mooseley stories. You inspire me! And many thanks to NovaNara for encouraging me to do this.
> 
> AU—unspecified time frame, just at some point after the boys have moved into the Men of Letters' bunker. Not canon compliant. 
> 
> Mooseley, or as I like to call it “Cram”—CRowley/sAM. This story, indeed the entire planned series, is meant to be fun. I hope you enjoy it.

Crowley’s orgasm built up until he could not stop it, and as he let go, he cried out, “Moose! Moose! Oh, yes, Moose!”

The seven low-ranking demons he was currently in bed with exchanged significant glances but said nothing. No matter what number or combination of demons that serviced him during the Friday night orgies, their King had been crying “moose!” when he climaxed for many weeks now. No one knew what it meant and certainly no one was brave enough, or foolish enough, to ask!

Crowley lay back, staring blankly up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then he rolled off the bed and said tonelessly, “Well, wasn’t that fun.” Then he pulled a black silk robe over his black silk pajamas, slipped his feet into black leather Testoni bed slippers and strode out of the room without a backward glance. The seven demons watched him go.

As soon as they were sure Crowley was out of hearing range, the demons discussed the situation. But they kept their voices low anyway...in Hell it was wise to assume that someone was always listening.

Demon 1 asked tentatively, “Is it just me, or does the King no longer seem as interested in the weekly orgies as he used to be?”

Demon 2 nodded. “It’s not just you. Everyone has noticed it. He shows up here, but his heart isn’t in it. He no longer acts at all involved, not even when we use his favorite instruments of torture in the most inventive ways we can think of.”

Demon 3 chimed in, “And a few weeks back, he suddenly started shouting “moose,” whenever he comes. What do you think that’s about?

Demon 4 shrugged. “Perhaps he has fantasies of bestiality with a moose?”

“Interesting choice of animal,” said Demon 5 thoughtfully. “Though it seems a bit ambitious of him. I can’t see how he could even reach the animal’s…”

Demon 6 shushed him. “Be quiet! The walls have ears around here.”

Demon 7 thought for a moment and then said, “Perhaps we should bring one here next time. To please him. Hopefully it will renew his interest in the proceedings.”

Demon 1: Although I’m not sure how well a moose will react to whips and chains. Do you realize how dangerous a moose can be when riled up?” Demon 1 was from northern Minnesota, so he knew what he was talking about.

Demon 2 frowned. “But he has not seemed to enjoy the orgies for so long. I will take it upon myself to have a moose here by next Friday night.”

Demon 1 said he should do it because he was from northern Minnesota and knew where to find really good moose herds.

Demon 3 protested: “No, we will work on this together and all share in the rewards for pleasing the King.”

Demon 4 asked thoughtfully, “So, do you think he would want a bull moose or a cow?”

Demon 5 snickered, “ A new-born calf would be more his size, at least he could reach its.....”

And once again was shushed.

Demon 6 said, “And let us try to surprise our monarch, so everyone keep your yap shut about this! If we let anyone else in on it, we will have to spread the honors even thinner.”

They left the Pleasure Room bickering about who was going to do what and when. It really was a miracle of a sort that no word of their plan got out. Or perhaps it did, but no one found it credible enough to pass along.

Crowley dragged his Testoni-slippered feet a bit on the way to the next orgy. The debauchery simply no longer interested him, and it didn’t matter how many whips, chains, handcuffs or ever more exotic implements were involved. His mind, and what was left of his heart, would not let go of the thought of the younger Winchester brother. Who obviously could never feel the same about him as he did about the tall, incredibly handsome, muscular Moose. Which, he assured himself, was pure lust and nothing more. A couple of good fucks with Bullwinkle and it would surely be out of his system. Probably.

Approaching the Pleasure Room, he noticed that the hallway smelled like a zoo and made a mental note to order the cleaners to be whipped. As for the kennel keepers...perhaps he should suggest on pain of death that they bathe the hellhounds a bit more frequently.

Almost reluctantly, he entered the room (which was full of the lovely instruments of torture that used to make him hard just thinking about them) and stopped dead in his tracks. Wait, was that…it WAS…a moose! Although it looked like it was perhaps a little bit dazed, it was a magnificent bull moose with a proud rack of antlers 6 feet wide.

The same seven demons as the week before expectantly awaited praise for their thoughtfulness and were shocked when the King pitched a royal fit. “Get this malodorous creature out of here this instant!” he commanded. “What in the name of all things unholy were you thinking?”

“But Your Highness, you cry out for a moose every time you climax,” they protested as one.

“I…I do?” Crowley’s anger deflated quickly as he realized that yes, he did. For many, many weeks now, thoughts of Sam Winchester had been invading his fantasies, every one of which ended in orgasm. Apparently his subconscious mind could not stay quiet, as much as he attempted to keep his actual interest in the younger Winchester brother hidden.

The seven demons were still terrified that Crowley’s temper would flare again. 

“You have not seemed interested in the weekly delights for quite some time.”

“We thought this would rekindle your enjoyment!”

“Obviously we were wrong.”

“Please forgive us, Your Majesty.” 

There were enormous amounts of bowing and scraping involved in the explanations.

“Yes, yes, just remove that ratty thing immediately and I will forget all about this pathetic interlude.” Crowley flicked a hand in a regal gesture.

The demons fell all over themselves thanking him profusely for his mercy. 

Ugh. Morons. Crowley turned on his heel and left the room. He hadn’t been all that keen on attending this week’s orgy to begin with, and after hearing what the demons had to say, he knew he would have been concentrating harder on trying to figure out what to do about his overwhelming desire for Sam Winchester than he would be in anything the seven might try to do to get him off.

He was upset that he had showed his hand so openly. Apparently every last demon who had been present at an orgy the past few months had noticed his lack of interest and wondered about it, but fortunately the average demons who showed up for the orgies, the low-ranking toadies who wanted to please him so badly (mostly for their own advancement), didn’t have a clue who Moose was.

Perhaps it was time, well past time, to go after what he truly wanted. Even if Sam rejected him, he now realized he had to say something or burst into flames from desire. Nothing could ever take the place of the big, beautiful, lumbering pile of flannel that was Sam Winchester, not even a hundred demons coming at him with the most gruesome implements of torture known to demonkind, and certainly not Crowley’s own hand.

But he had to approach Moose carefully. True, he was the King of Hell, but just showing up and demanding sex probably wouldn’t go over well. In fact, chances were it would earn him a punch to the face (or somewhere quite a bit more sensitive). Neither was he going to approach Sam with the proverbial hat in his hand like some kind of nervous, uncertain suitor, which he most definitely was not; no, he was a King, used to taking what he wanted and not particularly known for his impulse control besides. Perhaps he should try to sweep the boy off his feet with a few witty, sophisticated quips, whisk him off to a luxury hotel in Europe somewhere for a few good fucks and hopefully get the whole thing out of his system quickly.

*****

So it was not long afterwards that the King of Hell blinked into the front seat of the car being driven by Sam Winchester, who was on his way to the town of Lebanon, Kansas, to pick up a quart of almond milk and a six-pack of beer. “Hello, Moose,” said the King.

Sam slammed on the brakes and yelled, “What the hell, Crowley!” 

“Sorry for not calling first,” Crowley said, not sounding sorry at all, “but there’s something you need to know, Moose.”

“And you couldn’t wait until a time when I wasn’t driving down the highway at 60 miles an hour?” Sam grumbled. “You’re lucky we didn’t crash.”

“Rather difficult to crash while parked in the middle of the woods,” Crowley said casually, and Sam suddenly realized that the car was indeed now situated in the middle of a very dense grove of trees. He turned to look at Crowley in astonishment, and Crowley continued, “And no, Bullwinkle...I couldn’t wait.”

Sam took his hands off the wheel and sighed in resignation. “All right, then, Crowley, what do I need to know that’s so damned important?”

Sam had barely finished asking the question when Crowley slid closer to him in the front seat, looked deliberately into his eyes and reached purposefully behind Sam’s head, which he drew down just short of a kiss. “I want you, Moose,” he murmured and then pressed their lips together. Something wild ignited in Sam’s hazel eyes. Without hesitation Sam’s mouth opened over Crowley’s, returning the kiss with fervor, and Crowley got his first taste of what he had been wanting so badly.

The feel of Sam’s tongue in his mouth nearly overwhelmed Crowley’s senses, but in one of his last lucid moments for the next few minutes he remembered to snap his fingers, and suddenly they were lying on the back seat rocking their hips together with Moose making a firm, muscular cushion beneath the demon. Sam easily hooked one leg over Crowley’s hip and pulled them together even tighter, which took care of any last worries Crowley had harbored about Moose rejecting him. There was no time to get their clothes off so they just grabbed at each other’s asses and ground against each other until, in an astoundingly short amount of time, they exploded in orgasm together.

When the aftershocks were over they stared at each other in amazement and suddenly they were kissing again, even more urgently than the first time. They quickly reached the point where they couldn’t stand the building pressure any longer, but this time they were at least able to get a hand down each other’s pants, intent on jerking each other off, while still kissing feverishly. Crowley even managed get his other hand under the front of Sam’s flannel shirt so he could better feel the heat radiating from Sam’s body and feel those glorious abdominal muscles, which brought him ever closer to orgasm again. He was helpless to hold off much longer as Sam’s huge hand pulled and squeezed at his erection, and as Crowley spasmed, it sent Sam over the edge once more himself just before Crowley’s hand went slack.

Having come twice within minutes and being only human (and very male), Sam fell sound asleep in Crowley’s arms in the middle of more post-orgasmic kisses. 

Crowley, who had no need for sleep (or for a refractory period, for that matter) frowned as he watched Moose doze. The demon was truly embarrassed—he’d thought he was going to dazzle Sam and sweep him off to the penthouse suite of a classy hotel somewhere; instead, Sam drove him to such distraction that they ended up dry humping frantically and then giving each other completely artless hand jobs in the back seat of a bloody automobile. Well, the best-laid plans of demons and men...with the emphasis on _laid_...“gang aft a-gley” as his erstwhile fellow countryman Robert Burns once phrased it. He should have known anything involving a Winchester would be likely to go “a-gley.”

As Sam snoozed on, Crowley burrowed his face into one of Moose’s broad, broad, flannel-clad shoulders and thought back over the last ten minutes or so. “Moose, Moose, oh yes, Moose,” he whispered. He’d never lost control that way, had never been so immersed in sexual activity that he practically lost his mind. (In fact, such behavior would be extremely unwise in Hell, where some demon was always waiting, patiently or impatiently, to usurp the throne right out from under Crowley's nose, either for him- or herself or for Lucifer.) Crowley was beginning to suspect that he was in over his head with Sam. _You know you’re in trouble when you realize you don’t care that you both ejaculated all over your elegant, bespoke and dry-clean-only suit. That must be something akin to love!_ Now that his brain had risen farther north up his body away from his cock, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to pop their clothes away first!

Sam woke up with Crowley’s face smashed against a shoulder and smiled a little. “Crowley,” he said in a lassitudinous voice, and looking not at all like a badass Hunter who had awakened to find the King of Hell pressed tightly against him.

“What just happened, Moose?” asked Crowley, honestly bewildered. 

“I think we just had very hot sex and came in our pants twice like a couple of teen-aged kids,” Sam replied in a casual tone that disappointed Crowley greatly. “Why, what do you _think_ happened?”

“I have no idea. I can’t remember sex with or without pain ever being that hot and my memory goes back a very long way.”

Sam raised his head a little and looked intently into Crowley’s eyes. “So, that sounds like this won’t be the last time we meet this way.”

“Not by a long shot, Moose,” Crowley replied. “How many excuses a week can you find to drive into Lebanon?” and he reached out to unsnap Sam’s jeans.


End file.
